


Be the Captain

by astramaxima (shotgunsinlace)



Series: Normal Rules Did Not Apply [1]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik, Chair Sex, Clothed Sex, Copious Amounts of Rihanna, Dancing, Desk Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Fumbling Idiots, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Robotnik isn't a virgin and Stone is surprised, Robotnik's Coattails, Sloppy Makeouts, mentions of The Friend who had his wedding out of town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/astramaxima
Summary: A multi-billion dollar weapons contract? A dance break? A coffee break? A friend actually having his wedding in town? A loyal assistant with the impressive ability to boss him around when the moment is right? In the grand scheme of things, Dr. Robotnik always gets what he wants (more or less).
Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone
Series: Normal Rules Did Not Apply [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768222
Comments: 26
Kudos: 186





	Be the Captain

**Author's Note:**

> a [certain someone on twitter](https://twitter.com/imspoopylatte) mentioned Stone walking in on Robotnik dancing to Rude Boy by Rihanna and the thought haunted me for weeks until I finally caved and wrote this monster. That's it that's the whole point of this. I love these two but they're idiots.

Stone wonders how he does it, how Robotnik can switch between multiple settings so seamlessly. From hot to cold to lukewarm on the roll of a die. Viciously frustrated ranting to painfully average conversations. It’s kept Stone on his toes for a very long time, forcing him to reassess situations on the fly—usually with his hands full both literally and metaphorically—just to keep up with the doctor’s volatile whims. An unpredictable routine. Keeps the blood pumping and the job interesting, but it doesn’t keep Stone from wondering just how much of Robotnik’s displays are theatrics, which are genuine, and which are both.

As his assistant going on two years, Stone has seen Robotnik react to all sorts of situations in a variety of different ways. He’s seen the man laugh boisterously then turn right around and smash a piece of tech worth more than Stone’s cumulative income for the past five years. He’s seen Robotnik slip into pensive moments where he’s zoned off for hours on end, his mind no doubt furiously toiling away, and then jump to his feet and slip into fluent Japanese, likely cursing down every name ever conjured for reasons Stone need not know.

The dancing is a prime example of this conundrum, always what gets to Stone the most. He knows why Robotnik does it—the same reason why Stone goes on pre-dawn runs—but what he doesn’t get is why the doctor is always so surprised by his presence mid-song.

They have a _schedule_. Robotnik personally handed it to Stone early one Tuesday morning, not a week into his service.

    **•** 11:00 am and 8:00 pm – Dance Break

    **•** 11:02 am and 8:02 pm – Coffee Break

No song in those endless playlists of his lasts under two minutes.

Stone doesn’t ask but it doesn’t keep him from wondering every time he walks into the lab, coffee in hand and a spring in his step. He likes these little interludes in his otherwise hectic day, swaying to music that is hardly ever repeated for a couple of moments before Robotnik realizes he’s being watched and lets out a screech high-pitched enough to perforate tympanic membranes.

Always.

Without fail.

Blissfully exuberant one second, boisterously startled the next. Both elephant and mouse chasing each other around a roaring fire.

And as usual, Stone can’t help the genuine smile as he presents the caffeinated drink of the hour. The type is never predetermined, Robotnik allowing his agent to choose on the fly and trusting his taste every time.

It’s kind of nice, really. It makes Stone feel appreciated, like his opinion matters even if it’s just on how many shots of espresso should go into the day’s latte.

Today’s no different as he stands by the closed door of the mobile lab and watches the doctor dance like a man possessed to the tune of contemporary R&B. At 8:02, Robotnik hasn’t opened his eyes as expected, and instead keeps dancing with impressive precision. Stone squints his eyes against the red and blue lights that flash and sweep to set the mood.

Robotnik isn’t a professional dancer by any means, mostly flailing to either release energy or help him think up alternate routes to ongoing projects. He does tend to move accurately to the beat, with floor-wide twirls that segue into some version of the electric slide, always goofy and over the top and endlessly entertaining to watch.

Sometimes, however, like today, the doctor tends to get raunchy.

These are Stone’s favorite to watch—for purely educational purposes of course—as Robotnik gets remarkably wrapped up in doing the music justice. The way his hips sway from side to side, the sensual arch of his body as he mock-touches himself with exaggerated flair. He runs his gloved hands through his hair—Stone finds himself biting back a laugh to keep from ruining his groove, obviously—before grabs onto a metal pole of the wall-mounted shelving unit and hip thrusts with the ease of a man half his age.

Stone’s mouth goes dry.

But only because he hasn’t had a drink of water in a couple of hours.

He thoughtlessly takes a sip from the doctor’s coffee.

Few and far in between are these types of displays, and Stone wonders if, just maybe, Robotnik does have a libido, however buried it may seem to be. He is human, after all. This might be his way of releasing the sort of energy pent up in the nucleus accumbens and of course he would have no gauge of the inappropriateness of having Stone witness it.

_Unless._

_No, absolutely not._

Stone refuses to consider something so ridiculous. Even if Robotnik does have an active sex drive—and that’s a big if—Stone is sure he wouldn’t have it out for his assistant of all people.

It’d be kind of nice if he did. Stone wouldn’t mind joining him for a little bump and grind to the irresistible sway of _Rihanna_.

Stone continues to stare raptly at his gyrating hips, at the way Robotnik backwards straddles his swivel chair and salaciously _thrusts_ to a sultry tempo that nearly gives Stone a mild heart attack. He’s so flexible it’s obscene.

In fact, this whole show is obscene, and Stone has seen enough to keep the spank bank filled until the day he keels.

He clears his throat. “Doctor?” Robotnik doesn’t respond, eyes still closed, his face sporting the same look of dreamy bliss he always gets when he dances. Stone tries again, louder. “Doctor!”

Robotnik falls off the chair in an explosive fashion, limbs and coattails flailing about it as he hits the floor. He’s on his feet before Stone can put the drink down and rush to his aid, aggressively brushing himself off before fixing him with a glare. “Look who finally decided to show up a whole minute late.”

Stone sighs internally, knowing better than to argue. “I figured I’d try something new today and made you a caramel macchiato with amaretto extract.” He holds out the cup expectantly, trying his hardest not to ogle at the attractive flush dusting Robotnik’s cheeks. “Hopefully, you’ll like it.”

Robotnik squints at him and takes the coffee without looking away, bringing it up to his lips and taking a loud sip. His face immediately smooths out, eyebrows arching high and mustache twitching in barely contained delight. “This is delicious, Stone. If you weren’t as adequate as you are, I’d recommend taking a job as a barista at some fancy _caffetteria._ ”

“I’m happy to hear it.” He truly is though he may not sound like it, trying as desperately as he is to not glance down at Robotnik’s groin.

“You didn’t grab yourself one.”

“It’s getting late and I was about to head home,” Stone explains, grateful when Robotnik turns away from him to fiddle at the console. He lowers the music’s volume but keeps it playing, dimming the lights as well. “Early start tomorrow. You have your meeting with the Prime Minister at six o’clock sharp, followed by the luncheon with the Secretary of Defense and…” he lets the sentence go unfinished when Robotnik waves him off.

“And all those other flea-infested monkeys.”

“Just wanted to recommend turning in a little earlier than usual. Best to tackle all of these with a clear head.” By earlier than usual, Stone means sleeping a little more than thirty minutes. Robotnik tends to get twice as testy as he usually is when he’s running on limited amounts of rest.

“I’m not paying you to babysit me. Tomorrow. Five forty-five.”

Stone watches him nurse his drink for a while longer, his long fingers wrapped around the cup as he leans against his workbench, eyes shut, filling his lungs with the rich aroma of Colombian coffee beans. His lips seal over the cup’s rim and Stone licks his own, not-so-subtle longing swelling at the base of his spine.

Robotnik is magnetic in ways Stone can’t begin to describe. His allure is deadly as it drips off his fingertips like honey-colored synthetic oil, leaving sweet-smelling smears to lap up at one’s own reckless discretion. The doctor is hazardous with his deep cutting words and flippant approach to life as if the world is at his feet, both fearful and worshipful of his power.

Dr. Robotnik is untouchable upon his cybernetic throne and Stone feels satisfaction in knowing he can reach over and touch him whenever he wants. He doesn’t, but he could.

“Good night, Doctor,” Stone says, mindful of his role in all of this: merely a government agent and assistant to said government’s most coveted asset.

He’s halfway down the short set of steps when Robotnik stops him. “Get back in here,” he calls out, knocking back the last of his coffee and setting the cup down.

Stone steps back into the lab, glancing around himself in hopes of catching whatever it is he might have missed. He does mental leaps through the day’s assignments, noting his checkmarks and deciding it can’t be anything on his end.

Robotnik approaches him—nearly _saunters_ over—and comes to a stop mere inches away. “I’m going to ask a question and I expect nothing short of absolute honesty from you.”

“Always, Doctor,” he says, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“Stone, how long do you intend on playing this little game of ours?”

“I wasn’t aware we were playing anything.”

“Clearly.” Robotnik closes the distance and Stone naturally doesn’t budge. “A smart man would have caught on. An even smarter one would have made a move by now.”

“Which one are you, sir?”

Stone isn’t sure how he does it, but he can swear the mustache curls in to add to the look of vaguely scandalized affront. “I’m the man who always gets what he wants.”

The door behind him seals shut with a barely audible hiss as Robotnik comes closer still, nearly touching, but Stone is quick to put a hand up between them, keeping him from closing what little space is left.

He quickly assesses the situation, boggled by the sudden forwardness from a man always so removed from physicality, astounded that Robotnik would hone in on him. Then again, who else is ever this close? No one other than Stone knows and understands the doctor quite like he does.

But before he can get all weak-kneed and doe-eyed, Stone sensibly runs the scenario through a professional lens and opts to diffuse it before it has the chance to escalate into something potentially dangerous.

“This isn’t a part of my job,” he says, noting how the doctor invades no further past the barrier of his hand. “If there’s something you want, you’re going to have to ask.” He makes sure his words are clear and concise, granting misunderstanding no ground in the exchange. “And not while I’m on the clock.” Stone drops his hands to his sides and assumes his eased stance.

Robotnik tilts his head. He’s thinking harder than Stone has ever seen, and it’s unsettling how well the agent can pick up on the dozens of scenarios flashing across those intelligent eyes of his.

This ends in one of two ways.

Stone really hopes it’s the _orgasmic bliss_ option.

Lifting a gloved hand, stare trained on Stone, Robotnik presses three buttons on his palm before lowering it again. “Will you look at that? You’re now clocked out.”

“With due respect, you’re still going to have to use your big boy words to tell me what you want,” Stone says coolly, cocking his head to the side with a simple smile.

Robotnik’s nostrils flare. “Oh, someone’s feeling _sassy_ tonight.”

“Not on the clock.”

“What’s next? You’re gonna call me by my name?”

“That depends on you, Doctor.” Stone looks up at the man expectantly.

Two fingers thread around the knot of his necktie and twist, the knuckles just below his Adam’s apple nearly restricting his airflow as Robotnik hauls him up onto his tip toes. “Whatever’s gotten into you—”

“ _Ask._ ”

Robotnik blinks, taken aback by the slow hint of sudden authority pulsing in Stone’s voice. “Didn’t think you had it in you,” he says, walking Stone back until he’s pressed against the wall, hand still against his throat. “I take it you already know what’s going on here, but I want to be abundantly clear.” He hisses the words with sharp delight, a manic gleam in his eyes. “Agent Stone, to put this in words you may understand by using my aforementioned _Big Boy Words_ , I am very interested in engaging in intercourse with you.”

Stone keeps his face tightly schooled despite the sudden urge to laugh. “That wasn’t a question.”

“You’re being _difficult_.”

“You’re being _easy_ ,” Stone shoots back, and to prove his point, slides his knee between Robotnik’s legs and presses up, making the doctor sway before catching himself with a hand to the wall by Stone’s head.

“If you’re expecting me to beg,” Robotnik says, shamelessly grinding against Stone’s thigh until the agent straightens up again, “I’d rather fuck a robot.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty to choose from.” Stone shrugs. “But I’m the one you’ve got pinned to the wall.”

Robotnik scoffs, letting go of Stone’s tie. “You’re _warm_ ,” he says, and he does so with so much disdain Stone shivers for reasons other than arousal. “Curiosity’s got the best of me.” He plucks up one of Stone’s hands by the wrist and carefully inspects it, turning it this way and that, digging his thumb into the soft flesh of his palm. “Don’t let it go to your head, Agent.”

It certainly goes to his dick, but he doesn’t say that aloud.

Regardless, Stone being in this position is just a matter of convenience. That isn’t a problem, but if the goal is for Robotnik to get off, then Stone is taking as much as he can from the experience. He may be subservient, but he isn’t dumb.

“If you won’t ask, then get on your knees.”

“Who do you think you are?” Robotnik balks, jerking back. “You’re not in charge here.”

Stone answers by palming Robotnik’s groin, making the doctor gasp as he pulls him back in with that touch alone. He reaches into the coat and around with his available hand to grab Robotnik’s ass, fondling him with expert finesse, pulling him in opposite directions until the doctor squeaks out a moan so loud it makes even Stone blush.

“Looks to me like I am,” Stone says softly against the corner of Robotnik’s mouth. It parts to welcome a kiss, but Stone denies him. “For the sake of efficiency, maybe rest would benefit from acute exhaustion.”

“What do you suggest, oh ever practical assistant of mine?”

Stone parts his lips, moving his hands to fist the front of Robotnik’s coat. “I recommend my cock down your throat.” 

Robotnik squints his eyes at him, woefully unimpressed, before dramatically sighing.

He almost apologizes for the comment before Robotnik’s knees hit the lab floor with a soft _thunk_ , and Stone instantly catalogues that as his most favorite sound in the world. He likes it almost as much as seeing Robotnik kneeling in front of him, hands on Stone’s thighs like a sinner begging for salvation. The sharp edges of his silhouette a gorgeous arrangement as he prostrates himself before his assistant.

The power trip is a heady drug.

Stone unzips and draws out his already achingly hard cock, giving himself a stroke as he holds himself steady for Robotnik to take. He ignores the jitteriness in his limbs, the tightness in his chest as the doctor stares up at him defiantly, even when the slick tip is rested against his bottom lip.

Black gloves are removed and tucked away inside his coat. Robotnik cracks his knuckles and wiggles his fingers, before wrapping them around the hard length presented to him with near surgical precision. He twists his wrist then tugs, swiping the pad of his thumb across the slit before pulling back, bringing his head forward to seal his lips around the swollen tip and _suck_.

Stone grabs onto the shelving for dear life when his thighs begin to tremble.

He keeps himself in check by biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to hurt or else risk coming on the spot. It’s too much. The sight of Robotnik slobbering all over his dick is more than any fantasy he could have possibly conjured, a hot wet mouth moving on him with scary accuracy while equally deft fingers squeeze and stroke whatever the doctor can’t take.

It dawns on him, as Robotnik grows brazen, taking a little bit more of his girth, that this isn’t the doctor’s first time.

Stone’s not sure why he’s amazed by the epiphany. Of course a man in his fifties wouldn’t be a virgin—oh that thin line between fantastical expectation and reality—but mostly he’s just intrigued as to what kind of person Robotnik would willingly bump uglies with. _When_ does he, even. Stone is in his sphere of existence a good ninety percent of the time and has been for the past two years. Has it been that long? Robotnik is an extremely particular man, and Stone can’t imagine him picking up just anyone for a casual encounter.

Stone breathes in when he notices the absence of movement. He looks down to find Robotnik glaring at him, lips taut around his cock. “My head got away from me.”

Robotnik pulls off with a filthy _pop_ and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Humiliate me and then ignore my obviously superior skills as if I was some common whore with nothing better to do.”

“No, no!” Stone can’t help but laugh, his thumb gently caressing the curve of Robotnik’s cheek. “I was just wondering how you got this good. Didn’t take you for, you know, someone with experience. Shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

Robotnik—be still, Stone’s heart—leans into his touch with a self-satisfied smirk. “Be quiet, Stone. And _focus_.”

Stone waits for those lips to wrap around him again before he rests a hand on the back of Robotnik’s head and pulls him in without mercy, making the doctor gag when his cockhead bumps into the soft tissue at the back of his throat. He holds him in place until Robotnik stops clawing at Stone’s thigh, opting instead to hold onto them with blunt fingertips when the agent finally allows him to pull off.

Robotnik wheezes, a faint glimmer of moisture beading in the corner of his eyes before he’s on Stone again, taking him all the way down of his own volition, until his nose bumps into the dark fabric of his pants. He stays there, and it takes every ounce of self-discipline Stone has not to fuck Robotnik’s throat with brutal abandon.

The doctor does it again and again. He hardly sucks, barely licks, just kneels there like a glorified cock sleeve for Stone to use.

Sweat gathers under his collar as pressure gradually builds at the base of his spine, the swell of climax making him push Robotnik away in favor of taking over. Stone jerks himself off, coming with a quiet hum and making sure he shoots over Robotnik’s face. 

He leans back with a slow exhale, watching the thick globs of his spend linger on the doctor’s eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, his mustache, and lips.

How Robotnik can look attractive enough to rival any clip of porn Stone has ever consumed is beyond him, but there is one thing he knows for certain: Robotnik was beautifully crafted to wear Stone’s semen on his face.

“You’re a lucky man, Stone,” he says, wiping his eyelid clean before sucking on the finger without pretense. His voice is hoarse, and it makes Stone feel twice as satisfied. “Normally I take before I give, but I was feeling generous.”

Stone grabs him by the coat and hauls Robotnik back on his feet, flipping their positions and pinning the doctor against the wall with his body. “You know I give better than I get, Doctor.”

“I expect no less from you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Stone asks, overcome by a desire so overwhelming he feels seconds away from flying apart at the seams. He hovers, bodies pressed together, carefully gauging Robotnik’s face. There’s a twist to his mustache, a look of stubbornness in the set of his eyes, and Stone understands that what they are partaking in is devoid of romantic inclinations.

An act of convenience. A rump to let off some steam.

But then the doctor breathes in deep through his nose, and his exhale creates a tremble that leaves Stone speechless. Robotnik is hesitating, he’s uncertain, and he’s letting Stone see him as he stands there, pinned to the wall, a beautiful rose tinge to his cheeks.

“It’s been longer still since I’ve kissed anyone,” Robotnik grudgingly confesses, as if confused whether he should be proud or embarrassed by the fact.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Stone reassures him, offering him a gentle smile.

“That’s not what I said.” Robotnik jerkily leans forward, pressing their lips together before pulling away again in the space of a second. He turns his head towards the console, mouth pressed into a petulant pout that tickles a grin out of Stone.

Stone gives chase, turning the doctor back to him and brushing their mouths in a firmer kiss, one that lingers. “This okay?”

Hands finally come up to rest on Stone’s lower back, bringing him closer as Robotnik tips his head to better slot together.

The tentative give and take grows bolder when Stone finally licks at the seam of Robotnik’s lips, tasting the bitter remains of his orgasm and shivering with a newer, far more powerful sense of want as the doctor groans against him, tiny little sounds escaping the man as if unable to control himself. Robotnik moans, loudly, when Stone finally pushes into his mouth.

Suddenly, it feels like they’ve been doing this for as long as they’ve known each other.

Robotnik cradles the back of Stone’s head as they kiss languidly and hungry, pressed so close there is no space for air to come between them. Stone smooths his hands up the doctor’s chest, over his shoulders and down his back, making Robotnik shiver so deliciously he feels his spent cock stir for more. He is nowhere near done, not with a body vibrating with want flush against him.

Stone moves to kissing a stubbled jaw, trailing upward until he’s tonguing the back of Robotnik’s ear, blowing hotly against it until the man huffs loudly, grabbing a handful of Stone’s firm ass and giving it a squeeze.

“There you go, being easy again,” Stone says against his mouth, leaning away when the doctor goes for a kiss.

“You’re the one pawing at me with your bits still free for the taking.”

Stone presses their open mouths together before trapping Robotnik’s top lip between his teeth and giving it a light tug. “You were the one choking on it a minute ago.”

“You should be honored, Stone. Humbled by the mere fact that I’m allowing this.”

“Mhm.”

“Not many people have had the luxury of bedding me.”

“I am,” Stone reaches down between Robotnik’s legs, rubbing his open palm against the bulge there, “deeply honored, Doctor, make no mistake.” He watches Robotnik clench his teeth, eyes shut as Stone fondles him with a featherlight touch. “But I don’t think dry humping constitutes as bedding, in my opinion.” He squeezes, hard, making the body beneath him shudder. “We are adults, after all.”

“Stone,” Robotnik says, indecently rutting against his agent’s hand. “ _Stone._ ”

Hooking two fingers in Robotnik’s collar, Stone pulls it down enough to worry skin that will not be seen by anyone other than them, and the thought sends an illicit thrill to pool heavy in his gut. Robotnik will walk into his meetings tomorrow, bearing the mark of their indiscretion like a medal of honor and their superiors will be none the wiser.

Stone tugs at Robotnik’s pants. “Get these off.”

“Again with the whole _barking commands_ mumbo jumbo.” Stone levels him with a look, and the doctor is quick to give in. “Anything else you want? A raise? A new car? VY Canis Majoris? We all know the only thing to rival its size is your ego.” Robotnik fumbles with his pants, unsexily trying to dig through the layers of his shirt and coat, then battling with his shoes even as he leans against the wall.

It occurs to Stone that he’s _nervous_. Despite the bravado, the flippant boldness of his commentary, Robotnik is going through the motions like someone who’s read from a script. Had he not just been on the receiving end of a clearly experienced blowjob, Stone really would have written him off as a genuine virgin. It’s kind of endearing.

Robotnik finally manages it, naked from the waist down for the exception of his socks (and a surprising pair of polka dot sock garters), but Stone can’t see anything he wants as everything is still hidden underneath the fabric of the tunic the doctor misguidedly deems fashionable. Arms straight down beside him, Robotnik lifts his chin as if daring Stone to say something cheeky.

They stare at each other before it strikes him with a giddy sense of excitement: the undoubtedly most powerful person in the world is waiting to be told what to do.

Stone can’t help but square his shoulder, presenting himself like a goddamn bird preening at its mate. It would’ve felt ridiculous if he didn’t feel as powerful in turn. He picks his words carefully. “I would like it if you could prep yourself, Doctor,” he says, using the same tone he would if he were running pre-mission statistics.

Robotnik appraises him, unmoving. “Where—”

“Against the workbench,” Stone says, casually shedding his jacket and draping it on the back of the swivel chair. “That should work just fine.” He unbuttons his sleeve and begins rolling them up to his elbows, carefully gauging for any discomfort. “Keep the coat.”

Robotnik cocks an eyebrow. “This coat’s valued at more than the GDP of Greece this past year.”

Stone doesn’t answer, just waits expectantly until Robotnik bristles under the scrutiny and stomps across the lab. He makes a short stop by the tool board, rapping his knuckles against the metal paneling to the rhythm of _Bitch Better Have My Money_ before it pops open to reveal a secret compartment with a small velvet pouch inside.

“Make yourself useful, Stone,” Robotnik says, opening the bag and taking out a clear bottle roughly the size of his middle finger, carelessly dropping the rest of his personal items onto the cluttered workbench with a haughty shift of his shoulders, “and hold my coattails.”

Stone dutifully drapes said coattails in his hand while Robotnik hikes up his tunic—the thin fabric refusing to stay up of its own volition—so Stone does him the unspoken favor of holding that up too. He doesn’t get any form of gratitude for his troubles, Robotnik focusing on unscrewing the bottle and squirting a liberal amount of lubricant onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm up. He leans forward, bending at the waist and resting on his elbow, as he reaches back and pragmatically begins teasing himself.

Stone takes a step back to admire the view. He doesn’t touch although he wants to, fearing that any more stimulation might push the doctor over the edge before he can properly take him.

The position can’t be comfortable despite the doctor’s delighted little huffs, his hips rocking onto his sole finger and face tucked into his forearm. It’s such an obscene sight, utterly debauched, and Stone can’t help the fresh wave of arousal that brings him up to half mast again. He lets go of the shirt and coat, makes Robotnik fend for himself as he sits on the swivel chair, legs spread and hands smoothing up and down his own thighs as he watches his doctor work himself open with frustrated hisses.

Despite the crush he’s been harboring, Stone has never really looked at the man in front of him with licentious intent. Sure, he’s admired him, daydreamed once or twice about sharing a milkshake and afterwards taking a walk along rainy city streets long after the sun has set. Stone has never once thought about what he’d look like under the layers of his clothing. For a man so tall and lanky, his legs are deceptively toned, thick thighs shifting as he moves, and Stone wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into them.

But he doesn’t.

He sits like a good assistant watching his boss finger himself open. Stone spits on his palm and lazily strokes his now hard cock, patiently waiting for the moment he can finally sink into that tight heat.

Robotnik is everything but graceful as he prepares himself, his legs struggling to keep him straight as he steps up on his tiptoes before a knee gives out and he’s forced to readjust, rambling senselessly as he pushes in another finger, scissors, and then pulls them out, desperately panting through moans when he gets too tired to continue.

The frustration rolling off him is palpable and were it any other situation Stone would have earnestly jumped in to offer aid. As it is, Stone is _enjoying_ the sight of Robotnik struggling for the sake of self-indulgent pleasure. Best not to give a spoiled brat everything he wants—let him work for it, for once, and Stone is sticking to his guns. Still, Stone is a generous person at heart and Robotnik seems to like being pushed around, so he gives him at least that much.

Stone is brought back when the bottle of lube smacks him on the chest before Robotnik looks over his shoulder—face sweaty, cheeks pink, eyes wildly framed by his hair, lips slick; Stone has to take his hands off his now throbbing dick or else risk coming from the view alone—and nods.

“Get on it,” Robotnik says, his voice rung out.

Control is just an illusion, Stone thinks, because one command out of those kissable lips and Stone is fumbling like a blindly devoted servant. He doesn’t bother warming up the lube, pouring a liberal amount into his hand and gripping himself tight, slickening up while the doctor straightens with a groan, soiled hand thoughtlessly pressed against his lower back, leaving a stain on his pristine coat.

Stone grabs him by the hips before he can fully turn around, using his hold to move the chair forward while pulling Robotnik onto his lap.

It’s awkward, too-long limbs and too much clothing in the way, the chair far too small to accommodate two people regardless of the activity. But they manage. Not a more stubborn pair of peas in any lab in the world. They’ll figure it out.

Stone snorts as he digs through a sea of black fabric, Robotnik being of no help as he tries not to slip clean off his agent’s lap.

“We could have gone back to my place,” Stone says, finally finding his prize in the shape of a pale curve of flesh, primed and ready for him. “Wouldn’t have taken us more than ten minutes to get there.”

Robotnik braces himself against the edge of the workbench, bare legs on either side of Stone’s knees as he’s guided back and down onto the head of a cock much broader than any number of fingers he could potentially utilize. He seizes up, and Stone digs his thumbs into the soft flesh of his hips. “Had you taken me home,” Robotnik says through labored breaths, body instinctively trying to pull away, but Stone holds fast, “you would have forced dinner on me first.”

Stone rolls his hips, pressing upward until he breaches the tight ring of muscle, making Robotnik gasp softly into the still air of the lab. “Food and an actual bed. Torturous.”

“I can take it.”

“I know you can,” Stone encourages him, carefully guiding him, allowing him short moments of respite when it all becomes too much. “You’re doing good, taking it nice and slow.” He can feel Robotnik trembling and so he eases his hold, letting the doctor slide home on his own terms.

When he does—fully seated, quivering, hands gripping the armrests so hard his nails are white—Stone wraps his arms around him, holding him close as a reminder to give him time to adjust and not just buck him right off his lap.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, face pressed to the soft fabric of Robotnik’s coat, mouthing at the spot between his shoulder blades, “that’s good. How are you feeling?” Robotnik makes some type of sound that Stone interprets as _the doctor is out, please check back later_.

It isn’t long until Robotnik moves, lightly circling his hips and making Stone tip his head back, viciously biting down on his bottom lip to keep quiet. Not that it matters. The lab is soundproof, and if they can’t hear Robotnik all the way across the compound, odds are they won’t hear Stone panting as if he’s just done three tours in less than an hour.

“Stone?”

“Mm?”

“Do you still—,” Robotnik jerks in his lap, wounding up more than he had been mere moments ago, “want me to _ask?_ ”

For a flash of a moment, Stone has no idea what he’s talking about. All he wants is to finally be able to snap his hips upwards, to feel the tight slide in and out of Robotnik’s body. “Doctor…”

“Do you _want_ me to ask, Stone?”

“Yes!” Stone finds steady purchase and bucks up with an aborted sigh, tightening his arms around his doctor as he struggles to contain himself.

Robotnik suddenly goes soft against him, pooling into every fold and crevice of Stone’s feverish body trapped underneath the remnants of his suit. His head rests against Stone’s shoulder, turned to face him as best he can given their height difference and the unnecessarily uncomfortable position. “Would you’d be so kind as to fuck me?”

Who is he to deny his doctor anything when he asks so nicely?

He forces Robotnik upright, one hand on his shoulder and the other at his hip and Stone gives him exactly what he wants. He pours every ounce of pent up energy into his movements, bouncing the doctor on his lap without a single care.

Stone is used to hearing strings of expletives pour out of Robotnik’s mouth, and he’s also used to hearing them with his name interspersed quite frequently, but the way the doctor says them now, cusped in wanton moans and unashamed hiccups—it’s all Stone ever wants to hear. Let Robotnik berate him, pin him to any surface he wants, as long as he sounds like _that_ when he does so.

The mix of heat and pressure and the weight above him claws at Stone’s gut with renewed hunger and he doesn’t have enough leverage to properly feed. There’s only so much movement, trapped as he is, and even as Robotnik continuously bobs and grinds on him, it’s not enough. He wants more. He wants so much.

It isn’t lost on him how seamlessly the situation was manipulated to end just like this: both chasing release with each other in the most primal way imaginable, with a wall of expensive fabric, a whole suit of armor, lodged firmly between them. Stone can’t see Robotnik’s face, and while he can hear him in all his wildly frantic glory, there’s no seeing the vulnerability Stone can picture behind his eyelids.

 _Touch me,_ Robotnik says through action alone. _Smell me, hear me, taste me, but don’t look at me. Not like this._

Predictability in a box full of landmines. He’s seen Robotnik in every possible light, witnessed him at his worst and at his best and at his most nebulous and suddenly he draws the line at having sex face to face. Stone would be a hypocrite to deem it unnecessary, especially when he buries his own lewd hums against Robotnik’s back.

He considers saying something, but the thought of words dissipates off the tip of his tongue whenever Robotnik rocks back. Stone sets an acceptable pace, one that will draw this out as long as it needs to be—but Robotnik goes stiff on his lap in a matter of moments, folding in on himself while pushing harder against Stone, his sounds sharp and clipped.

He decides Robotnik has no right to take this from him, however selfish he may be.

Grabbing a fistful of the coat, Stone shoves Robotnik off him.

What follows is a struggle of ungainly proportions, the flailing of limbs and a litany of swears, Stone reaching around him to clear off the workbench with the swipe of an arm—all sorts of tools and papers and miscellaneous bits hitting the lab floor—before he manhandles Robotnik onto his back with a huff. The doctor looks incensed, red at the face, nearly kicking Stone off, but his agent is swifter, and two degrees more willing to face his fears of inadequacy.

“Tell me to stop,” Stone says, towering over Robotnik with arms at either side of him.

Jaw flexing, Robotnik glares at him. “And ruin your perfect track record?”

“Then let me look at you.” Stone carefully hikes up the tunic, allowing his sight to roam the pale expanse of skin, the slick and swollen cock.

Robotnik struggles to even his breathing, kicking Stone’s side. “In case you didn’t get the goddamn picture, Stone—I was two seconds away from coming my fucking brains out.”

Like this, Stone can slide his fingers up Robotnik’s impressively muscular thighs, making the man shiver before finally sheathing himself again into that deliriously tight heat. Stone bottoms out and waits, basking in the control he now has—how deliciously hard he can fuck Robotnik, rip him apart and make him see the sparks of Stone’s own creation.

“You need your brains, Doctor,” Stone says with a breathy laugh, playfully patting his knee before hooking his hand underneath and bringing it up. He pauses to inspect the sock garter strapped tightly around his calf, giving it a stretch, and letting it slap against skin.

The back of Robotnik’s head thuds against the workbench with a loud moan and Stone catalogues the reaction for later exploitation. To think that such an imposing and domineering man is this willing to submit so readily.

Stone pulls out halfway only to sink back in at an agonizingly slow pace, observing the way Robotnik reaches back and grabs the steel frame of his holographic projectors, making the screen glimmer at the interruption. His eyes are screwed shut, face turned away to hide against his sleeve, but Stone reaches over and carefully cups the side of his face. He doesn’t say anything, dragging his thumb over his cheek and relishing in the soft tickle of his stubble.

Other hand still behind Robotnik’s knee, Stone gets back to it with lazy thrusts, each one timed to the whitening of Robotnik’s knuckles around the frame. He briefly debates pausing to take off the remainder of his clothes, if just to feel the smooth skin of Robotnik’s ass on more than just his cock, but a murderous pair of dark eyes suddenly flicker open and pierce through him as if he heard his thoughts.

As an apology, Stone thrusts hard and deep, and the image of Robotnik’s back arching off the table is undoubtedly the hottest thing Stone has ever experienced. His mouth hangs open in a soundless moan and suddenly Stone has a whole new objective: fuck him _silent._ The doctor hasn’t stopped rambling, his words not registering when they’re drowned out by unexpected sounds of broken little whines, gasps, and whimpers.

He wants more of those.

Stone sets a punishing pace, making the table groan with the force of their fucking until one of Robotnik’s hands lets go of the frame to grip Stone’s forearm, his fingernails digging deep into soft skin. He’s kicking out, thoughtlessly, and Stone has to pin him down like some sort of wild animal, but, fuck, is it worth it.

Stone touches nothing but the side of his face and the back of his thigh, pushing Robotnik over the edge with nothing but his cock.

The way his face tightens and then crumbles, eyebrows pushed together as his moans peak high and shaky before plateauing into silence, head tipped back, before a moan punches out of his chest with enough force to expel what leftover tension he had stored in his muscles, would have been enough to finish Stone off, were he ten years younger. He settles for a triumphant feeling as he watches pearly strings splatter against the black fabric of Robotnik’s tunic, the man’s cock twitching and bobbing as the beast is finally sated.

That done, Stone switches tactics. He pulls Robotnik to him, half his ass off the edge of the workbench and arms holding him securely in place as he drives home over and over again, holding nothing back, taking his pleasure now that his doctor lays satisfied beneath him. Stone allows himself the luxury of losing himself to the sensations, the tightness and the heat, the reality of what it is he’s doing, of Robotnik squeezing around him so delectably Stone could sob were he any other man.

He takes him harder, his rhythm faltering in hopes of pushing deeper. He wants to hold him, bury his face in the crook of his neck and drown in his scent.

A tug on his necktie pulls him out of it.

Despite the utterly wrecked look on Robotnik’s face, his eyes are sharp as they cut through Stone with a precision deadlier than any weapon currently surrounding them. He pulls harder and Stone gives him his full attention—as if he didn’t already have it—clearing his throat and refusing to let up on the obscene sound of skin slapping skin.

“You,” Robotnik says, pausing to gasp, overstimulated, but diligently marching on, “you saw me.” To Stone’s surprise, the doctor is able to sit up, and he would mourn the interruption were it not for the fact that Robotnik wraps his limbs around him, tightly, adjusting himself so that he’s still seated on Stone’s dick with the table only half supporting his weight—the rest relying on Stone’s strength alone. “Now let me hear you.”

He can’t go as deep, not like this, but it’s a welcome sacrifice, enveloped in the intoxicating warmth and smell that belongs strictly to his doctor, and Stone becomes deathly afraid of becoming addicted.

Small, shallow thrusts are enough. He ought to be intimidated by the intense look he’s given but Stone is too far gone to properly register what it might mean, focused as he is on the ecstasy being wrung out of him one squeeze of his dick at a time. 

Blunt fingernails drag down the back of Stone’s head, tickling his neck and it’s _enough_.

“Doctor—”

“You have my permission…”

“I—”

“So long as you’re _loud_ about it.”

Stone grits his teeth, his systems struggling to accept the override input from the man so meticulously pressing buttons in the proper order. A lifetime’s worth of conditioning and training, asked to be cast away for the doctor’s enjoyment.

How fitting.

Stone doesn’t have much of a choice. “Fuck,” he gasps out, softly, swept away under the constant hum of machinery and the music still beating away in the background. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Stone.”

“Doc—oh, god, _fuck!_ ” Stone fucks into him once, twice, and then a third time before going still, coming deep inside of him with a feeble whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears, but Robotnik hums with content.

Stone does quick work of slipping out and placing Robotnik back down on the workbench, uncaring of the mess and worried he might drop him given the sudden jellied state of his legs. He collapses onto the doctor, face buried in his chest as he fruitlessly tries to catch his breath, shivering from both exhaustion and bone-deep satisfaction as he takes a moment to breathe him in.

Robotnik leans back on his hands, allowing Stone a moment.

Two orgasms in one night after a long day in the lab—he’s ready to pass the fuck out.

But the dénouement is often more perilous than the introduction, and Stone must tread carefully or else risk losing sight of the wonderfully complex yet devastatingly blunt creature currently wrapped around him. Stone presses a kiss to his chin, and then another to his top lip, smiling at the soft tickle of his mustache.

“How are you feeling?”

Robotnik snorts. “Like I’ll need a pillow to sit on tomorrow.”

“Then my job here is done,” he says, rubbing his hands along Robotnik’s back. “Was I too rough?”

“You were acceptable.”

Stone muffles a laugh against his shoulder, still touching, committing to memory. “You were a little dusty, too.”

“Careful, now. Before I add insubordination to your impeccable dossier.”

“You said it’d been a while,” Stone says, pulling back for another kiss, but Robotnik turns his face away with the faintest hint of something, of _hurt_ , ruining the blissed lines of his face. It’s agonizingly easy—more so than usual—to read him in the aftermath of sex. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

Robotnik pats Stone’s cheek as if he were a cat. He goes to get off the table, but Stone refuses to budge. “I want my pants.”

“And I want a raise. As mind-blowingly amazing as this was, it won’t pay my bills. Unfortunately, not all of us can get what we want.”

“We already covered this, _I_ always get what I want,” Robotnik says, and for the first time since this whole ordeal began, he sounds seductive enough to make Stone’s breath hitch just so. “Right now, I want a shower and—”

“A bed?” Stone says, smug.

Robotnik glares before casting a look around him. “I’ll think about it.”

“There’s a next time, then?”

“That’s not what I meant. Get off me.”

Like throwing a switch, Robotnik is back to his usual haughty self.

Stone watches him walk on wobbly legs, grabbing his pants and staring at them, before looking down at himself, and then at Stone with an accusing glare.

Stone innocently holds up his hands the moment he’s tucked himself back in.

He wishes such a state-of-the-art laboratory had an adjacent washroom, or some sort of equipment to at least get his hands cleaned. All he gets is a pack of wet wipes thrown at him.

They put themselves back together in silence, Stone bending down on still-too-weak knees to pick up the things he carelessly tossed to the floor in his haste. He carefully inspects the more delicate equipment, glad to see nothing is damaged.

“I was twenty-two.”

Stone looks up at the words, and spots Robotnik’s back to him where he stands near the back of the lab. He’s fussing over one of his robots, carefully polishing the white finish with a small towel. His gloves are back on.

“He distracted me during my second candidacy, and I was naïve enough to call him my _friend_ ,” he says, so casually Stone expects this to be a lighthearted story, a brief glimpse into a much younger and likely rebellious doctor. “What anyone failed to inform me is that _friends_ don’t usually partake in this kind of activity, let alone when more than one _friend_ is involved—a socially acceptable one. A _woman_ friend.” Robotnik moves on to the following bot, lavishing it with the same amount of attention. “And then they decided to get married, had the wedding out of town, asked me to be the best man— _I was in the middle of my second post-grad degree_ ,” he gripes, exasperatedly throwing up a hand. “So inconsiderate. _Unnecessary_.”

Stone listens, a heavy knot sitting at the base of his throat as he gets up and puts down the last bits of machinery on the workbench. He wants to say something, but what can he tell a man who’s been nothing but a target for misfortune all his life? All everyone has ever done is take advantage of him, government and otherwise.

“Anyway,” Robotnik continues, waving it off like a bad smell. “Who needs friends? Look at me! Prime example that ‘emotional human connections’ are a waste of valuable time and effort.”

“Replicable outcomes,” Stone says, keeping his distance and making sure his face is as even as he can possibly keep it.

“Different variables, same result,” Robotnik instantly replies. “The only reliability humans have is that they’re unreliable. _Waste of my time_.”

“Can I speak freely?”

Robotnik does a double take, staring at Stone with a pinched brow and thinly pressed lips. Almost as if he’d forgotten Stone was even there. “Last time you asked me that I lost three drones. Hurry up and get it over with.”

“I agree,” Stone says with a shrug. “Humanity is pretty cruddy.”

“And you’re, what, excluding yourself from this judgment?”

“No, not really.”

Robotnik comes closer, carefully inspecting him as if looking at something entirely new. “You’re an outlier.”

Stone smiles, glancing at his shoes before meeting Robotnik’s eyes. “I’m your agent, first and foremost.”

“Not a friend.”

“Not unless you want me to be, Doctor.”

“Agent. Assistant.”

“If that continues to work for you, yes.”

Robotnik presses his mouth shut, invading Stone’s space once again. “Would you ever consider another label?” he asks, flippant enough that Stone can’t help the way his chest warms at the implication.

“Whenever you ask,” Stone says.

“Again with the asking,” but Robotnik still leans in, clearing his throat, and waits for Stone to close what little space is left for a barely-there kiss. “I guess you’re a step above most humans. Don’t let it get to your head.”

Stone nods his head. “Of course not, Doctor. I let other things do so instead.”

Robotnik takes a step back and drops the towel onto the chair. “Let me guess, a job well done?”

“The way you cried out my name,” Stone states, _informing him of the weather_.

“You think you’re funny, Stone?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Cut it out,” Robotnik threatens, but it’s an empty one, lost in yet another kiss that is mostly tongue and roaming hands. Hitched breaths, and soft sounds. “Your place is nearest.”

Stone laughs, reaching up and carding his fingers through Robotnik’s attractively disheveled hair. “It’s not very big, but I do have a queen-sized bed and an ensuite. I also have tomorrow’s clothing sorted for you. We can head out directly from there, save us a couple of minutes.”

The lab powers down with a few taps on Robotnik’s gloves. “What are you waiting for? Lead the way.”

They both walk out into the late-night air, Robotnik closing and activating the security system with a spring in his step. He pats the warm exterior of the trailer before crossing the grassy outskirts of the compound towards the parking lot, Stone two steps behind him.

Robotnik stops, impatiently casting Stone a look.

“Sir?”

He picks up his pace again, pointedly slow enough for Stone to fall in line with him the remainder of the way.

And if Stone reaches over, discreetly slipping his fingers through Robotnik’s own, the doctor doesn’t pull away.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on twitter @ **[astramaxima](https://twitter.com/astramaxima)!**


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